


Interstitial

by Tabithian



Series: The Spaces Between [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 14:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4709729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles based on <a href="http://tabithian.tumblr.com/post/128087079064/hissing-willows-okay-but-have-you-considered">this post</a> because it was a long day again. :)?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interstitial

**Author's Note:**

> *hands*

Tim rolls over, arm going around Jason when he slips into bed. Presses his face against Jason's neck, nose wrinkling as his cheek meets with the rhinestones on that stupid collar Jason insists on wearing. Little scratch where the nylon webbing met with a flying debris from an explosion and a close call for both of them. Tim hisses, flinches away from the bite of cold from the pet tag. The low rumble of Jason's laughter as he pulls Tim closer.

“Jerk,” Tim mumbles, still half asleep, hand tangling in the blankets he'll take with him sometime during the night, restless sleeper. "How was patrol?" 

Jason sighs, curling around Tim. "Uneventful."

********

There's a muted bang, thump, from deeper in the apartment, Tim jolted into wakefulness in over his laptop, television showing the loading screen from the movie he'd put on as background noise. 

Hears Jason's growled, _“Motherfucker,”_ and looks down the hallway to see him limping towards him.

Jason stops, squints at Tim. “Did you fall asleep?”

“No?” 

Tim's fingers wrap around his laptop, draws it closer to himself when Jason's eyes narrow. Watches Jason limping determinedly towards him.

“You fucking liar,” Jason says, voice soft as he looks down at him. “You drool when you sleep, you know. Real attractive.”

Tim huffs, annoyed. Definitely doesn't swipe at his face with the sleeve of his hoodie pulled over his hand. 

Glares, at Jason laughing at him as he gently tugs Tim's laptop out of his hands.

“Come on, genius. Why don't you try that sleep thing in an actual bed for once? Who knows, you might even like it.”

********

“Okay, look,” Jason says, voice raised over the sirens in the background on his end. “To be fair, Dick started it.”

Tim blinks blearily at the bedside clock, phone pressed against his ear. “Jason?”

There's a long moment of silence, and Tim thinks he can hear Dick yelling at Jason, calling him a lying liar who lies.

“What happened?” Tim asks, rubbing his eyes, trying to wake himself up. 

“Your premiums are going to go up?”

Tim.

“What?”

There's a pained grunt from Jason, like he's been sucker-punched, and a moment later, Dick's on the phone. Painfully cheerful, which means whatever happened probably is his fault. 

“Hey, Tim. So. Jason wrecked the car. He needs a lift home.”

Tim closes his eyes, _sighs_ at Jason's snarled, “You son of a bitch, I'm going to kill you,” and the sound of Dick being tackled, phone knocked out of his hand and clattering away.

********

Jason snatches the champagne flute from Tim's hand, maintains eye contact with him as he drinks it all in one go. Light catches on Jason's collar, draws attention from the other party-goers, whispered conversations behind hands, scandalized looks.

Tim raises an eyebrow, small smile playing on his lips. “People are staring.”

Jason raises an eyebrow of his own, leans into Tim's personal space. 

Says, voice lowered so only Tim can hear, “Worried they might think you're into the bad boys, Mr. Drake?”

Tim glances past Jason, _smiles_ at Bruce who has a pained smile on his face. Vicki Vale is clutching Bruce's arm in a white-knuckled grip that looks like it hurts, looking like all her Christmases have come at once.

“I'm more worried about what Bruce is going to do, actually.”

********

“Jesus, Christ,” Jason mutters, hopping up on the counter next to Tim. “Aren't you like, trained not to make so much damn noise?”

Tim takes a bite of his sandwich, and chews thoughtfully as he looks at Jason.

Wonderfully sleep rumpled, hair a tangled mess, curls going every which way.

“Want a bite?” he asks, holds his sandwich out to Jason who blinks at it. 

“What the fuck is it?”

Tim shrugs. “Mashed potato sandwich? Steph introduced me to them a while back. Kind of addictive.”

Jason sighs, holds his hand out, wry little smile on his face.

“Oh, what the hell, why not.” 

********

Tim smirks, flicks the little pet tag on Damian's collar.

Tiny, angry little ball of fluff now, because magic.

He's still wearing the Robin suit that's changed to suit his new form, biting at the boots he's wearing on all four paws.

“Christ, him too?”

Dick chirrups form his perch on Jason's shoulders, ears pricked forward as he stares at the kitten in Tim's arms.

“I'm almost afraid to find out what happened to Bruce,” Tim says, watching as Dick stretches out his neck to touch noses with Damian.

“You really think whoever did this got all of them?”

Tim shrugs. “Odds are good, yes.”

It's how these things tend to go, after all. 

Jason sighs, looks at Tim. “Bet you're glad you decided to help out with Outlaws shit now, aren't you?” 

Little bit, yeah.

********

Jason's staring at him, little bit horrified, little bit disgusted.

“What?”

Jason curls a hand around his coffee and pulls it close. The whip cream is already starting to melt, caramel syrup and shaved chocolate dragging it down.

“How are you not dead from drinking that sludge?”

Tim thinks about it, brings his cup to his mouth and makes a show of taking a long drink of it. Licks his lips. _Smiles_.

“It's quite the mystery, isn't it.”

Takes another long drink, while Jason mutters darkly.

********

It's a thing they both do, picking up things here and there when they're out of Gotham for any length of time, more so when they end up out of the country. Or off-planet, such as the case right now.

“What the fuck is that?”

Tim shrugs, pokes at the weird little fruit-thing. Or what he was told was a fruit-thing, supposedly some kind of super food. 

Maybe literally, Tim's translator wasn't fluent in that particular dialect.

“I don't know, but it looked interesting?”

Jason frowns.

“Is it – Oh my God, it _moved_.”

It's still moving, actually. Kind of halfheartedly rolling towards the edge of the counter, making little noises of effort.

“Holy shit.”

********

Tim slips through Jason's fingers, twists and ducks around the people surrounding them, ignores Jason's raised voice.

Drops into a slide and grabs up the little black puppy growling at the people trying to coax him closer. Rubs its ears absently as he puts on a smile, tries not to look like a complete lunatic. (It'd be easier, if he was in the Red Robin suit, but.)

“Oh, you found him! Thank you so much!”

The puppy's growling drops to a low, steady noise. Presses back against Tim's chest, ears pinned back.

“I was so worried,” Tim says, lets his voice go wry, as Jason runs up to them. “My friend was watching him for me, and you know how puppies are.”

Jason glares at the puppy when it barks at him.

Tim laughs, wincing when the puppy bites his hand.

“Bruce,” Tim chides, tapping the puppy between its ears, “be nice to Jason.”

Tim ratchets his smile up a few more notches as Dick and Damian catch up, tries to pretend everything is normal, nothing strange here at all. (Wonders how long until the spell finally wears off, because trying to keep up with everyone is exhausting.)

********

It's a thing Tim does, when it's just the two of them.

Deliberately mispronounces words to see the little eye-twitch Jason gets. Sits back with a little smirk as he corrects Tim, muscle jumping in his jaw. Or, and this is the best, when Jason goes on a mini-rant on the importance of words. The elegance of language and why Tim should show some damn respect, Jesus Christ, you should know this already, what the hell is wrong with you?

Waits until Jason runs out of stream, defeated, and leans in.

Runs his fingers over Jason's collar, smile pulling at Tim's mouth.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jason asks, incredulous look on his face, even as he lets Tim push him down. “I can't believe this gets you going.”

Every time, like Jason has no idea what he looks like all fired up like that.

Tim cocks his head, _looks_ at Jason.

“If that's a problem,” he says, starts to pull back - 

“Oh, hell no,” Jason growls, fingers wrapping around Tim's wrist to hold him in place, slowly reels him in. “Don't even try that you little shit.”

Well, if Jason insists.


End file.
